


Shades of Blue

by Percygranger



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Character Study, Inspired By Tumblr, M/M, No beta we die like fans, this rambles and that's okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:09:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24275629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Percygranger/pseuds/Percygranger
Summary: After 400 years, learning to see again is a challenge.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 12
Kudos: 132





	Shades of Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by paradoxcatalyst's soulmate fan edit. I found both the visual and the dialogue very inspiring! Go give them some love.
> 
> <https://paradoxcatalyst.tumblr.com/post/615209819255848960/when-you-make-eye-contact-with-your-soulmate-your>

400 years without color. 

Magnus could deflect, say he’d heard tales of warlocks who’d gone longer, who’d been denied the glories of reds and blues and greens for a thousand years. Plus, he had never had it, so he couldn’t miss it, right? 

He could long for it, of course. Hear it described for the colorblind, the monochromatic, the unbonded, whatever term was in vogue at the time. People seemed to delight in figuring out what colors were analogous to what sounds, or tastes. Textures, even. 

There were even spells to change or improve vision, but they were difficult to perform, and they never lasted long. Magnus had only tried them in private, a few times, unwilling to be seen grasping for something he might never get. 

Most warlocks were lucky, and met theirs early in life. The problem was that many soulmates of warlocks were mortal, adding yet one more tragedy to their long lives. Magnus had heard the theory batted about that there might be more than one soulmate, for a warlock, but how was one to tell, beyond that first explosion of color? 

The theories and the waiting wore thin for Magnus, at times. Physical loneliness was one thing. He could take comfort in other people, even if they weren’t his match. He could be glad, sometimes, that he hadn’t met them yet, that he hadn’t had to watch them die. He could distract himself with life, family, his career, his magic, his survival. But sometimes, he just ached, missing someone he had never known. 

As his first century passed, his doubt grew. Would he ever know his soulmate, or see permanently beyond shades of gray? By the end of his second, it almost seemed certain he wouldn’t. Perhaps he’d never find them, perhaps they had died before their eyes could meet. Maybe Magnus himself had killed them, during his brief but bloody time as an acknowledged son of a Prince of Edom. 

The third century hit particularly hard, ending with an unexpected sucker punch in the form of Camille. Magnus retreated for a long time after the relationship ended, hiding out at Ragnor’s, moping, depressed, angry at the hand life had given him. Was he so flawed, so terrible, that he would never have what so many others possessed? Really know what it felt like to be loved for more than what he could do? He had experienced it, of course, but it felt good to be dramatic, to proclaim doom and indulge his darker thoughts, for a time.

Magnus swore off romance after that, and built a life he could live happily enough, pursuing the things that made his life good. He had his adoptive children, his friends, his magic. And now, a club, a space he made open to all. Even the title of High Warlock. He might be numb inside, a bit over-performative to make up for it. But really, things were fine. 

Also, there were apps for color-matching now. It made picking out clothing so much easier. 

And then, like an omen of death, Circle members came to his club. Magnus warned them off, but knew it was time to hide, protect his people. The Circle never had anything new in mind. It was all death to the downworlders. The only surprise was that they hadn’t expanded their views to all people who weren’t nephilim, yet.

His efforts were interrupted by proper little shadowhunters, offering a payment he couldn’t resist. The risk paid off, but they were found, the Circle’s appearance heralded by an unexpected arrow. 

The shadowhunter who came to check his kill was lovely, his dark hair a beautiful contrast to his light skin. The ease of his movements suggestive, at least to Magnus, of how he might look in bed, or dancing. Magnus especially appreciated how he’d killed a Circle member who was undoubtedly about to try and kill them. 

He wished he could forget that it meant the man had probably also been waiting for a threatening move from Magnus himself. 

With that thought, he left. 

\---

It was too late, the lair had been compromised. He should never have abandoned his people, not for a jewel, no matter what memories it held. 

He channeled his frustration into his magic, taking down Circle members with a vengeance. 

Magnus watched with satisfaction as a particularly odious one was brought down by another arrow that came out of nowhere, before throwing his own spell to finish the man off. _This is how it should be_ , he thought. It was too bad that good shadowhunters were so hard to find. 

He made sure his glamor was firmly in place, and turned to meet the archer properly. 

Magnus had a moment to recognize the same man from the club, and the world...changed. The light looked strangely warm. A painting of a woman in repose that he’d bought decades ago suddenly had contrasting shades between her hair and dress. His eyes ached. 

Completely distracted from fighting, Magnus advanced. The shadowhunter’s lips parted, eyes wide. There he was, Magnus’ soulmate. 

“And you...are 400 years late.” He kept his tone light, drinking in new details. He had to resist the urge to blink, hard, to make everything go back to how it was before, to check his glamor again. His soulmate did have very pretty eyes, he had to admit. 

“...sorry?” The man said, a smile blooming on his face. 

Magnus smiled back, but knew he couldn’t take more than a moment to enjoy his soulmate’s looks. There were formalities to complete. He resisted the urge to check his own outfit. 

“I’m Magnus Bane, and you are?”

“Alec. Alec Lightwood.” 

Magnus kept his wince internal, a Lightwood. Even in this, his luck was abominable, it seemed. And who knew, perhaps Alec was one of the better specimens of his kind, despite having Maryse as an ancestor. “This occasion calls for a drink! Join me in a toast?” 

“...Sure.” Alec seemed bemused. “I mean, we should, uh.” He nodded in the direction of the door, and blinked a couple times, obviously noticing new details. “This is weird. You don’t mind being soulmates with a shadowhunter?”

“As long as you don’t have a problem with me being a warlock. Or,” Magnus looked at the dead Circle member with distaste, “drinking over the bodies of our enemies. I think he was the last one.” 

“No, I- Fair enough?” Alec replied, and took the conjured drink Magnus proffered. 

They managed a single sip before they were interrupted. By the end of the night, Magnus didn’t even get Alec’s number. Perhaps the universe was out to get him, after all.

\---

A soulmate, despite the word, never meant one thing. It did not always mean romance, or family, or friendship. In rarer cases, it meant something less positive in feeling, rivals. Ragnor claimed that was what he’d found, a few centuries back, a beloved enemy.

Magnus, on days he let himself dream, indulged in the stereotype. A lover, a friend, steadfast, loyal, someone that wouldn’t leave or stray, someone that would spur him to greater heights of emotion, joy. They would be the epitome of romance. His soulmate would be his match, the puzzle piece edges aligning to half of a shared soul.

It wasn’t impossible. Magnus was a warlock, and Alec was nephilim, meaning they were both at least half human. His non-human side was more celestial than Magnus’, but the fact remained, they shared a dual nature. 

Alec hadn’t seemed phased by his soulmate being a man, either. A bit taken off guard, perhaps, ashamed of his feelings towards his parabatai, but Magnus felt they could work through that. He’d acted honorably, protecting his family and downworlders alike. It didn’t seem a step too far to hope. 

It was terrifying, though. The thought of confirming this, of asking for more, was like swinging on a trapeze, trusting the other person to catch you.

Magnus had always wondered what it was about humanity that let hybrids exist, and express so many mortal traits. The Christian creation story would posit that humans were favored by their God, special. Magnus generally thought humanity’s most unique trait was sheer adaptability. If they could find a way to live in all corners of the earth, if they could carry the remnants of their extinct cousins inside them, why not also merge with and adapt to other species beyond Earth? 

Warlocks had their marks, of course, but even if it was obvious, skin or horns or extra appendages, the inside, the soul of a warlock remained very human. Demons were not empathetic, warlocks were. Demons had egos, and wanted power, their underlings and their own realms. Warlocks wanted everything humans wanted, including love. 

Humans and downworlders, if demons cared about them at all, were a tasty snack, or a means to more power. Warlocks had human friends and lovers, clients and rivals. Humans, if not equal to warlocks in power, were their equal in all other measures. 

Magnus, in considering the damage his father had done, had attempted to classify the demonic way of thinking by human standards. For all intents and purposes, demons were sociopaths, and the ones who could not be considered sentient were...aggressive, at the least. Always hungry, wanting. They could not be trusted or tamed. 

Demonic energy, too, was unstable in a special fashion. You could contain it, band it with sigils, destabilize it further until it dissipated. To use it consistently required constant vigilance, pulsing in the same way it did, and that way of living never led to good things, in Magnus’ experience. It was like how, in venting anger, you exercised your ability to be angry, and, thus, could never escape it.

But Magnus had escaped. He had learned to thrive in all the worlds he walked through, Edom, Earth, with mundanes and downworlders. He could learn to live with shadowhunters, too. 

Of course, that didn’t mean it would be without its challenges. Magnus had controlled his body and power, for so long, that relearning something as basic as how to see, now, almost felt like taking a step back. The world was suddenly overwhelming, lights too bright, clothing he’d enjoyed now an assault on his eyes. 

He rearranged his closet, putting the darker shades in front. It was good practice, identifying the colors. The dark colors, at least, were less of a strain. He hadn’t realized there were so many variations of black.

He needed to see Alec, and he was hardly going to be dressed in something less than stunning. Stunning, mind you, not blinding. He could try his brighter colors again later.

\---

Alec had never really wanted to find his soulmate, to be quite honest. Avoiding eye contact was a habit at this point. He’d almost convinced himself it would never happen. He’d met so many other Shadowhunters, attending dinners and arranged...things, by his parents. 

Amongst nephilim, soulmates were private, a gift of the Angel, at least that was the official line. In reality, it was important, and, if acknowledged, it was on par with a parabatai bond. Lots of marriages, lots of lifelong friendships, a few very infamous rivalries. 

Alec had told himself he already had a parabatai. He didn’t need anything else, really.

So, of course, having achieved equilibrium, and on the cusp of cementing a place in his world, Alec finds his soulmate, and he’s a male warlock. Of course. 

Alec had been afraid of it for a long time, because he knew he was...wrong, and his soulmate, no matter who it was, would never be good enough for his family. He wasn’t going to live up to his parent’s expectations no matter how hard he tried, and therefore, how could the other half of his soul? 

\---

“Alec, there’s...someone to see you.” The messenger’s voice sounded off. 

Alec knew, somehow, who it was. He finished signing off on the mission report in front of him. “Where are they?” 

“With a guard at the entrance.”

  
  
“Take me. No, nevermind, I’ll just go.” Alec set out, long legs eating the distance. 

Alec didn’t let his stride or professionally blank expression waver when he saw just who it was waiting for him. Magnus was standing, posture the epitome of casual, inside a glittering fashion shell. Alec had been practicing, and recognized the tinge of his velvet jacket as a form of red. Unlike most colors, it didn’t hurt his eyes.  
  


“Mr. Bane? How can I help you? Is something wrong?” 

Magnus smiled brightly. “Only our utter lack of contact. We never exchanged numbers, and as the High Warlock, I felt it would be best to make sure of open communication with the acting head of the Institute, to remain on good terms.” 

“I see.” Alec took the cue and engaged his manners. “Why don’t we discuss this in my office, I’m sure we can correct this oversight.” 

The tilt of his head indicating satisfaction, Magnus followed as Alec turned. 

The trip back to his office felt different than usual. Alec wondered what Magnus saw, going past the familiar sights of shadowhunters working, training. He’d obviously been here before, Alec had seen the payments for his warding services, but this would be the first time he’d seen the Institute in color. Alec certainly had had to take a second after coming home the night before. 

The trip to his office took both forever and no time at all, that strange accordion-like compression of time that only happened during times of odd emotional stress. No siblings or emergencies interfered. Gratefully, Alec closed the door and automatically sealed it against intruders and listeners. 

He looked up from pocketing his stele again to see Magnus watching with interest. He felt a blush coming on. “Ah, just making sure we’ve got privacy, if that’s okay?” 

“It’s fine. I’m just finding every old thing is new again. Angelic magic shines, but it’s just silver, not any other color. I hadn’t realized.”

Alec nodded, moving towards his desk. “It’s been an adjustment. The stained glass window got me when I first came back. I nearly gave myself away.” 

Magnus cocked his head. “You haven’t told anyone?” 

Alec felt a pang of embarrassment, mingled with urgency, not wanting to disappoint. He took a breath. “Not yet. I was taking some time to adjust, maybe talk to you first. I had planned to contact you soon.”

“I’m glad,” Magnus sounded approving, “I don’t know what the Clave’s rules are for this kind of thing, but I imagine you do need to tell them?”

“Within 48 hours. Do warlocks have rules about this?” 

“Not particularly. It’s expected I’d tell my friends and advisors, and the people I do magic with would feel it. Meeting a soulmate, it shifts certain magical resonances.” Magnus snaps his fingers, bringing up a faint wisp of magic. “Blue, I knew it of course, people told me, but I always imagined a warmer color, for some reason.” He flicks it away, watching Alec’s eyes as they follow. “Does my being a warlock complicate things for you?” 

“Uh, maybe? You don’t have to declare who it is. Sometimes we don’t know. Sometimes it’s a mundane. Things happen.”

“A surprisingly discreet policy.” 

Alec shrugged. “What matters is, my vision has changed, I have an advantage on the battlefield I didn’t before, and I have a potential personal weakness.” He cleared his throat.. “However, if I don’t declare who it is, I’m making it clear I consider my soulmate unworthy of a full relationship, or the Clave’s scrutiny, and will not be pursuing it to its fullest extent.”

“That seems precipitous. Two days to decide if you want to engage in a relationship. Do people ever change their mind about that?” 

“It doesn’t really happen, as far as I know. Shadowhunters, we choose a course, and that’s that, most of the time.” 

“Ah, and have you thought about what you’re going to do?” Magnus’ face was mildly curious.

Alec admired his ability to act, even as he wished Magnus didn’t feel the need to. “That depends on you, really. Not to be blunt, but what are you...looking for? In a relationship?” Alec stumbled over the words, but managed to force them out, looking away. 

Magnus huffed out a laugh. “You know, I’ve had a lot of time to think about it.”

“400 years, you said.” 

“Yes, I’ve been up and down, just about any emotion one can feel about soulmates, I’ve had it. I certainly didn’t expect my soulmate to be a shadowhunter. But in the end...I think I just want a chance.” 

Alec is caught in Magnus’ gaze. “I...yeah, me too.” 

“What will they do if you declare me as your soulmate?” 

Alec shook his head. “It’s not been done, as far as I know. Same sex soulmates are one thing. People firmly assume they’re platonic. But a shadowhunter and a warlock? They can’t forbid us from seeing each other. I’m of age. They can make my life harder, watch and take account of every misstep that might otherwise be forgiven.” Alec grimaced. “I’m next in line as leadership here. This could put that in doubt.” 

Magnus tsked.

“You, on the other hand, are powerful enough that I doubt they’ll go after you.” 

Magnus scoffed, “I would like to see them try.” He laid a hand on Alec’s shoulder, meeting his eyes. “It’s your choice, of course. If you decide to acknowledge me, and face the controversy, I would stand by your side. No one is going to mistreat my soulmate.” 

Alec felt a weird thrill at the words. “I...I don’t think- I don’t know yet. But, I’ve always hoped, my soulmate would be a man. More options that way.” He smiled at Magnus. “It feels wrong to hide. Like what I am and what the Angel gave us is shameful. We can’t control who our soulmates are, so why should they be something we’re judged for?” 

“Exactly so.” Magnus smiled, small and genuine. “You’re someone I’ve been waiting for a long time, and no matter who you were going to be, I was open to it.” 

“Yeah, I, yes.” 

“I certainly won’t pressure you to potentially hurt your standing within the Clave. But, perhaps we could go to dinner before you decide?” 

“Tonight? I mean, I’d love that. My patrol shift starts at midnight.” 

Magnus made a face. “Partying late at night, I understand, looking for demons is another thing entirely. But needs must, I suppose.” 

Alec felt a pang of concern. “My job’s not going to be a problem, is it?” 

“No, no, don’t worry about that.” Magnus waved the thought away. “It’s just all very new. Do you have a preference about dinner?” 

Alec shook his head.

“Then I’ll text you with a place. Does eight o’clock suit? Excellent. If you’ll give me your number?” Magnus smiled. “It is what I’m supposedly here for, after all.”

“Yeah, of course.” Alec fumbled for his phone. 

Their business finished, Alec escorted Magnus out. It was even more nerve-wracking the second time. Alec could almost feel searching gazes on him, but this was something he had to get used to, if he wanted to be open about his soulmate. It was scary, yes, but also, kind of freeing. 

He had a soulmate, and it only made seeing the colors in the stained glass sweeter. 


End file.
